


(More Than) A Case of the Sniffles

by SadakoTetsuwan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Ficlet, Flash Fic, Hanzo's sick, I MUST ATONE FOR MY SADFIC, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Nurse Jesse, Sickfic, serape burrito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadakoTetsuwan/pseuds/SadakoTetsuwan
Summary: Hanzo caught a nasty bug on a mission and has holed himself up in his room to wait it out.(Experimental antidote to Red Horse, Blue Dragon. READ AND BE HAPPY.)





	

Hanzo sneezed violently and shuddered, the absolute image of influenza-based misery. If only he weren’t so proud, he would have gone to Angela two or three days earlier for treatment, but he refused to admit defeat to a simple virus. That’s what he told himself, anyway. In truth, there was far too much equipment in the Med Bay that was specifically for Genji’s care and upkeep—seeing spare canisters of coolant and lubricant for his joints laying around made Hanzo feel more and more like a monster. He’d made Genji into that…thing. It was his fault Genji had to hide his face behind a mask…

So this was his punishment. In part, anyway.

“Hey, Hanzo,” came a call at the door—familiar, and at once longed for and loathed.

“Go away,” Hanzo croaked, wiping at his nose futilely.

“Aww, that ain’t no way to treat a friend,” the voice called back. It only took a few minutes for his lock code to be overriden, and for the broad frame of Jesse McCree to replace the door. “Still laid up?”

“Obviously,” Hanzo coughed, whining pathetically—groaning hurt his throat.

“You take anything t’ clear that muck out?” McCree asked, shifting to lean against the door frame.

“I’ll manage,” he dodged.

“Y’ain’t managin’, you’ve got one foot in the grave, from the looks of it,” McCree replied.

“…just kill me,” Hanzo muttered, agreeing with McCree’s assessment.

“Nah, won’t do no good—yer germs are already all over the base,” McCree smirked. He strolled over, laying his cool metal hand against Hanzo’s forehead. “Mmm, pretty hot,” he murmured, “…And you’ve got a temperature, too,” he winked.

“Oh shut up,” Hanzo muttered, looking away. In this condition, he was certainly not attractive, and there were few things he hated more than empty flattery.

“You just sit tight, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” McCree murmured, turning his hand over to let the other cool side rest there for a moment. He slipped out of the room as quietly as he could, with his spurs jingling like bells everywhere he went. Hanzo tried to snort his sinuses clear, but only succeeded in triggering his gag reflex and filling his stomach with the sensation of having swallowed quicksilver as he tried to keep everything down.

Hanzo had read somewhere that a ‘jiffy’ was 1/100th of a second. He was positive that it wasn’t a real unit of measure—and he was also positive that McCree was taking more than one ‘jiffy’, no matter how long it was supposed to be. It must have been ten miserable, congested minutes before McCree’s footsteps jangled in the hallways again.

“Alright, I grabbed ya some cough syrup, nasal spray, gotcha some horse pills, in case y’hate syrup…” McCree said, his arms loaded down with medication obviously swiped from the med bay. “Also grabbed ya some oranges. Vitamin C’s good fer gettin’ over infections, I hear,” he added, starting to drop items in Hanzo’s lap. “Some more tissues, extra battery fer chargin’ yer phone, so y’ don’t have to get up and go get the charger…”

“What is the meaning of this?” Hanzo asked, wiping at his raw nose and snuffing again.

“Well, ain’t nobody else comin’ round t’ take care of you,” McCree said, smiling gently. “An’ I’m due on the transport ‘bout 3 minutes ago…”

“Go,” Hanzo instructed, though his tone wasn’t upset in the least. “Don’t be late on my account.”

“Nah, it’s too late fer that,” McCree chuckled, waving it off. “Wanna make sure I won’t be comin’ back t’ find a pile of snot and used tissues in place of my favorite archer.”

“I have already become such a pile of snot,” Hanzo complained, sniffling again.

“Here, blow yer nose, darlin’,” McCree instructed, holding out a tissue.

“Blowing one’s nose is obnoxious and disgusting,” Hanzo frowned.

“Yer snortin’ and snifflin’ ain’t no better,” McCree replied. “Better out than in.”

“I refuse,” Hanzo frowned, crossing his arms childishly.

“Well, it’s yer life,” McCree shrugged. “At least be sure to take that there medicine. I ‘spect you t’ be back on yer feet when I get home. Alright?”

“…Alright,” Hanzo muttered, trying to burrow down into the blankets more.

“Here,” McCree said, pulling his serape from around his shoulders and wrapping it around Hanzo without hesitation.

“Jesse, no,” Hanzo protested weakly, though the warmth was welcome, “You need it—”

“I’ll make do without it,” McCree smiled, bundling Hanzo up tightly. “As for you, my little burrito...I’m thinkin’ you need it more.”

“I’ll infect it,” Hanzo whined, his hands grasping it from within and pulling the wool tighter around him anyway. He would never, ever admit to enjoying being Jesse's 'burrito', but being swaddled in the warm, slightly scratchy fabric was so comforting...it was so  _Jesse_.

“We got washin’ machines,” McCree chuckled, “Jes’ take care of it. It’s my favorite serape,” he added, smiling.

“I will,” Hanzo said, leaning against McCree slightly and sniffling again.

“I’ll be back soon, darlin’,” McCree murmured, giving Hanzo a gentle peck on the forehead. “You make sure to drink plenty o’ water, too. Gonna need my best sparring partner,” he smiled, rising from the edge of the bed. “I’ll call ya t’ check in—you take them pills, alright?” he called from the doorway, looking over his shoulder and tipping his hat.

“Alright,” Hanzo said, smiling gently as he pulled the serape up higher around his face to disguise his blush. He looked away, consoling himself with the knowledge that McCree would be out of commission once he got back with the same god-forsaken flu...


End file.
